I Got Your Crazy

Dear fiancé,

I do all the things most men wish their lovers/girlfriends/wives/whatever would. We have amazing behind-closed-doors action. I care about your opinion, I dress up daily, I always look nice… for you. I wear dresses, heels, everything. I am cooperative, loyal, supportive, loving, and completely devoted to your every whim and need. I compromise myself for you, I gave up my home, my family, everything, to be with you. Yes, my home situation kind of sucks, but I love my dad dearly and I still cry after I talk to him because being away from him hurts. He’s an asshole, but I love him. That’s probably why I love you. I love your parents dearly, but it isn’t the same.

Why is that no matter what I do, nothing motivates you? Why is it that no matter how hard I try, nothing I say gets through? Are you really that ignorant? No. No one is that daft, not even a genius. Maybe if I put it into a mathematical theory on a big chalkboard… but, oh, wait, no. I can’t do that. Because I’m a normal person.

You are seriously pissing me off. Seriously. I am stressed, upset, and generally unhappy… yet I fall in to your every need. I worry about you, I take care of you even when I’m the one who is sick. I deal with your emotional detachment and ignorance. I ignore the times you hurt my feelings and yet pander and cuddle you when I say something that you somehow take as a deep insult. Anytime we argue, I give in, because I can’t stand to see you upset. Even if I’m the one who is upset, I will comfort you, and make everything okay again.

You have turned the girl everyone joked was secretly a ball-crushing dominatrix into a 40s housewife. I love you, I would do anything for you, and I don’t want anyone else. No, not even that guy who hit on me, or that other guy who stared at my boobs. I love that you are possessive, I am, too–but the constant thought that I am going to up and run away is annoying. Stop it.

I’m about to get out the leather whip and six inch heels and apply them to your balls. Do you remember what I was like when we met? I’m still that girl. I will eat your nuts for lunch.

Stop taking advantage of me, my kindess, my boobs, and my compromises. ASPIRE. MOVE FORWARD. Jesus Christ, show some effort and dedication to SOMETHING other than that damned, dead-end job from Hell. Step up and BE A MAN!

Or I will make you a eunuch.


Your fiancée who is currently rethinking her plan of surprising you with something from VS for the hotel room we will have this weekend.

Womanly Pains

This post may border on TMI for some. If so, you’ve been warned, you don’t have to read. For the brave, well, feel free to continue forward.

I originally went on birth control to regulate my hellish periods. Serious. They were like being touched by the hand of Satan in the girly bits. I would bleed profusely, puke, and pass out. Thankfully, it was isolated to the first day. I rarely got the angries, but I was frequently depressive to the point of it being… ridiculous. Anyway, I went to a doctor after a few years and they said that perhaps I just had too much estrogen. I’ve been on birth control for about a year now. It’s working pretty well. It isn’t perfect, but the pain is definitely gone and I bleed normally now. My anemia, it cries out in glee.

I am waiting on my period now, however, and it is not coming. It is Wednesday, I stopped the pills Sunday, as I was supposed to. I’m on twenty-eight day cycles. Where oh where are you, fair period? I am feeling like shit. I have the symptoms, but yet it is MIA. I had a slight bit of spotting, but hardly anything to raise alarms about. My insides are churning so loud my fiancé has been giving me odd looks. I am crampy and unusually cranky. This is probably because my damn period IS BEING A LITTLE BITCH. Get your ass over here, young lady, and get this party started. Come ON. Don’t you dare think you can wait until I go to work. I still get sick when it starts and sometimes, I start sweating and it triggers other things and bam. I am out like a light. Blegh.

It could be the stress, also, that I am having lately. I tried to work on my writing, but I can’t. My emotions are everywhere and I go from feeling hopelessly depressed one minute to hopelessly enraged the next. I go from wanting to give up to wanting to tell everyone to piss off and give up. My domain registration requires renewal in a few weeks. It would be so easy to just disappear and save myself the heartache and the headache… but I would and could never do that.

Especially not in this shitty mindset. Rational thought? Not here, at least… not right now. Maybe later. Leave a message, I’m sure it’ll get back to you at its earliest convenience! I’m still waiting for it to call me back…

Back to playing Harvest Moon: Tree of Tranquility while I can. The fiancé and I have been fighting over it for days. Neither of us have any free time and when we finally do, it’s together and we both want the same thing. Hilarious and horrible.

Oh, and I work a 11-9 shift this Saturday. YEAH, that’ll be great. Kill me now, please. Watch me come in Sunday, too. I can’t bitch, though, because I have serious bills that need to be paid. Why must I have my head up my ass when it really ought to be thinking?

Probably because I am too busy contemplating the best way to kill people in a certain community for being such asshats. I hate popularity, I really do. And in another vein, I’ll never understand why people FLOCK to kiss the feet of someone who only posts once a year and never comments on anything except when she’s “in the mood” to play the game itself or create.

Maybe I should do that. Then, maybe, I can be cool, loved, and OHSOPOPULAR!! too.

Fuck that–aren’t even fit to kiss my ass.

And while I’m offending everyone and their mother… people who drool over their own characters and call them sexy and whatnot? FREAK ME THE HELL OUT. Quit lusting over pixelated, non-existent man cock. It’s fucking weird.

I totally shouldn’t hit post, but I will. Fuck it. I censor myself way too much, why do I care if someone on the internet hates me? OHNOESTHEPOPULARSWILLEETME!